


It's Supposed to be Art

by DontForgetAParachute



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, F/M, In chapter 2, Light Dom/sub, Smut, but we're not there yet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:03:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7893691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontForgetAParachute/pseuds/DontForgetAParachute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you do this…often?”<br/>“No! No. I…I’ve never done it before.” This is the single most embarrassing moment of your life.<br/>“Are you—will you do it again?” He blushes deeply.<br/>“I, ah, no…?” The floor could open up and swallow you right now and that would be one-hundred percent okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hey, Screechy!” Tony calls to you as you walk into the common room.

“Hi, Tony,” you say as sweetly as ever. Despite his teasing nicknames, the two of you are really quite close. He’s kinda like a crazy uncle or older brother, and when it comes to you, has a protective streak spanning the length of the entire tower.

“Where ya going? Not staying here to hang out with little ol’ me? Am I no longer good enough?” A dramatic hand is placed over his heart and you shake your head, smiling.

“Got an art class right now. Don’t want to be late.”

You walk over to the kitchen area to grab a snack. Staying true to clumsy form, you manage to somehow knock into a chair, causing some of your sketches and art books to fall to the floor.

“It jumped at me, I swear,” you mutter to yourself, leaning down to pick up the sketches.

“Ooh, what’re these?” Tony is eyeing one of your sketch books to where it fell open to a vague portrait of a man from the side. “Is that…is that Steve?”

“What? No!” His question about the man with whom you are secretly infatuated with catches you of guard. You hadn’t drawn Steve. At least, not in any of _these_ sketchbooks.

“Hmm, it _is_ a little hard to tell, but I really do believe that it’s Frosty here!”

You sighed, attempting to channel your frustration with the man into something less angry. “No, it isn’t. It was just a model guy, okay?”

Tony looks unimpressed. “Really? Admit it, the Banshee has a thing for tall, buff, and blonde.” He flips to another page in the sketchbook with a contemplative look on his face. “Y’know, all joking aside, these are actually really _quite_ mediocre. Well done!” His mock-serious tone and face break into one of pure jokester.

He receives an eye roll and punch in the arm.

“Hey, okay! Okay, you are really quite talented. I even think that—” he cuts off suddenly, staring at a new page in your sketchbook.

“What? You think what?” you pester him, trying to regain his attention.

He turns the book around slowly so that it’s facing you. “Are these…?”

“Nude sketches? Yes. They are.” You stare him down, daring him to make fun of you for it. The human body was a beautiful thing, with so many different body shapes and types and different skin colors and textures. Practicing drawing the human form in a state of undress aided in helping an artist to understand the mechanics of the body. You could tell it had helped you, because your other people sketches (the clothed ones) were looking better already.

But Tony is still looking at you, wide-eyed and mouth agape. “Oh, c’mon Tony! You know that lots of art features nudity. Just…chill, would’ja?”

He stands there, silent for a moment, thumbing through a few more pages of (still naked) sketches. Suddenly, he stops on a page, pointing.

“Is that Cap?”

It’s a drawing—yes, still another naked one—of a large man with well-defined muscles. His face was partly in shadow, but his hair was obviously light and his jaw was strong, with a rather familiar stubborn set to it.

Resisting another eye roll, you opt instead to look him dead in the face. “It was a coincidence. It just looks like Steve. ‘ _Kay_?”

Tony stared right on back at you with a pointed look. Behind his shoulder, the digital clock on the stove changed times and caught your eye.

“Crap! I’m running late!” Grabbing the last of your drawings and practically ripping the sketchbook from Tony’s hands, you begin sprinting out of the room towards the elevator.

“Going to draw more of the Captain _in the nude_?” Tony called suggestively after you.

You swear you now had the capability of growling at this infuriating yet loveable man.

“It’s not Steve!” you call back to him. Right before the doors to the elevator close, you manage to get in “And it’s supposed to be _art_!”

_%%%_

“And it’s supposed to be _art_!”

Tony chuckles to himself. “Whatever you say, kiddo,” he comments to the now closed elevator doors.

Around the corner, Steve stands frozen. He hadn’t mean to listen in, he really hadn’t. But when he had heard Tony and you talking about him—when he heard Tony and you talking about him… _naked_ —well, who would be able to walk in on that conversation without spontaneously combusting? Besides, he had wanted to hear the rest of your discussion about him. Naked.

Art class, huh? You had mentioned a few weeks ago that you were going to a little building a few streets over to improve on different techniques. He thought you were already amazing at it all, and had even told you as much, buy you had just laughed sweetly, waving the compliment off.

“Is it really possible for someone to stop improving at something? I want to be the best I can be, so I take art classes whenever I can. They’re generally just as good as the ones I got at university, except cheaper. You should stop by it some time, see if you like it.”

Hmm. Well, he did have a free hour or two right now. Maybe paying a visit wouldn’t be so bad after all.

_%%%_

Seeing as you were running late, you decided you could take a shortcut without feeling too guilty about it. Instead of asking FRIDAY to take the elevator down to the lobby, you asked her to take you to the roof.

Pulling your hair out of your face and stuffing the books and papers into your backpack, you gazed out at the cityscape below you. Swinging your pack onto your shoulder, you stepped up to the ledge, taking a moment just to stand before falling forward.

You allowed yourself to freefall a few seconds, enjoying the rush of adrenaline through your body and wind against it. Taking a deep breath, you constricted your airway to let out a powerful, high-pitched frequency. It was above any regular human register, and the force of it allowed you to bounce the waves off of the ground and surrounding buildings while pushing you upwards, enabling a sort of “flight”.

When you had first joined the team and showed them your ability to fly, they were awed. By the time you got back down to the ground, Tony had pulled up article upon article about some mutant by the name of _Banshee_ who had possessed powers very similar to yours, that also enabled him to fly. It was because of this mutant that “banshee” was now one of Tony’s growing number of nicknames for you. He had even suggested that you take the name as your superhero identity, since the old one was apparently just that: old.

But you had wanted something original. While a large part of your power was the ability to produce waves of any frequency, another part had been that you could use the higher frequencies as sonar and radar, meaning your hearing had to be extremely good to pick up on and interpret the frequencies bouncing back to you. Much like a bat or dolphin uses echolocation.

So _Echo_ it was. The team had readily agreed that it was a pretty cool name, and within a week it was all you were ever referred to as.

It took you minutes to get to the building you were looking for, meaning you were right on time. You found a spot on the roof to land, then jimmied the hatch on the door leading to the inside from there.

You walked down flights of steps to one of the lower floors, going along a hallway until you reached the classroom you were looking for. As expected, no one was there, considering the class didn’t start for another hour and a half. You pulled out your sketchbooks and special brushes, setting them down where you usually sat. They would be safe here; none of the other students in the entire building would steal a tool from a fellow artist.

Heading back out to the hallway, you descended another floor, finding the second classroom much more slowly. You had never been to this one before, and you probably never would again.

You entered. A young woman and kind-looking man stood chatting near the center of the room.

“Echo! You did come!” the young woman exclaimed when she saw you.

She rushed over to hug you tight.

“I told you I would, so now, here I am.” You attempted to bring air back into your lungs as she continued to squeeze, but alas. Your talents lie in expelling air, not the other way around.

“Echo, this is Professor Benzine. Ted, Echo.”

“Hi, Echo. Thank you for agreeing to do this. We wouldn’t have asked if our other person hadn’t cancelled last-minute. And please, call me Ted.”

You took an immediate liking to this man, feeling less nervous about what you would be soon doing than you had before.

“There’s a little room right over there, if you would like to use it and also store your stuff.” The woman, Katelyn, as she insisted on being called even by her students, pointed out a door on the far side of the classroom.

“Sounds good, thanks.”

“Oh, and Echo!” she called out after you as you began walking.

You turned to her, raising an eyebrow. “Yes?”

Here she blushed just the slightest bit. “Would you prefer if I’m, um, not here? Since we’ll be seeing each other after this, as opposed to—”

You thought. “Thank you for offering. I hadn’t even thought about that.” You smiled at her. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’d just as soon as have you here. I think I might actually be more comfortable that way, with you keeping me distracted.”

Katelyn grinned at you, glad you felt that secure with her. “Sure thing.”

You continued on your path towards the back room, shutting the door behind you when you arrived. Setting your bag down, you removed your shoes and placed them next to it. You then proceeded to remove and neatly fold all of your clothing until you stood completely bare.

There was a short robe hanging on the back of the door, which you were grateful for. Putting it on and tying it loosely around your waist, you stepped outside again.

It was still just Katelyn and Ted, talking and chatting amiably. They turned to you as you came out.

“If you wouldn’t mind stepping up here,” Ted gestured to a platform in the center of the room that was slightly raised. You stepped up and looked around.

“What we wanted was a woman with a toned body—and not ‘thin’ toned, but very muscular, clear definition of each muscle in her body. Particularly the legs and back, as those tend to be the areas my students have the most difficult time with. Our previous model had been an Olympic athlete, silver medal in…100 m., I think? Running, not swimming,” Ted added on at the end.

“When she canceled,” picked up Katelyn, “we only had about a two-day notice. It’s pretty difficult to find someone who is comfortable posing naked in front of a bunch of strangers already, but finding a muscle-bound woman? One in a million, practically.”

“And yet you thought of me,” you said with a wry smile. While you had your powers to help the Avengers, being in extremely good physical condition was something they strongly encouraged so that everyone could be more helpful in areas outside of their powers. Thus, your impressively muscled frame.

Katelyn grinned up at you, and you laughed at her.

“Exactly! I’ve seen your arms and legs already, whenever you wear t-shirts and shorts. I figured the rest of you couldn’t be all that bad.” She winked flirtatiously, and you blew a kiss to her. Ted pretended to intercept it and stuck it in his pocket, while you and Katelyn fell into a fit of laughter and giggles.

They were doing a great job at making you feel at ease with this whole crazy situation. You knew they wouldn’t judge what you looked like; they had seen hundreds of naked people in their lifetimes already with the number of art classes they had both taken to get their degrees in art education. Baring your body and placing yourself in such a potentially vulnerable position was scary. People could point out things about your body that you saw as flaws and focus on those qualities in a negative way, only helping to cause further self-consciousness. They could even focus on things you _liked_ about your body in a negative way, which would really hurt bad.

“Students will be arriving starting in about five minutes,” Ted noted, glancing at his watch. “You may be more comfortable already being bare before they come in. Something about the ‘big reveal’ with everyone watching you. Even though all of them have seen more private parts than they could ever want to have seen. If you ever feel uncomfortable, remember that it’s just you stuck in your own head, and not them judging you. They honestly don’t care at this point,” he concluded.

“Okay,” you said quietly, undoing the knot at your waist. Slipping the robe off, you handed it to Katelyn, who was closest.

Willing your cheeks not to heat up, you looked around the classroom, having difficulty with looking at either of the others directly. You worried about what the students would think, afraid they would laugh at you. While you appreciated your body for all it could do for you, it didn’t mean you didn’t wish certain things were different, that they were bett—

“Echo, you want any candy? I know I got your favorite,” Katelyn held up a bag before tossing it straight at you. You caught it easily.

“Thanks, babe, you’re the best.”

“Oh, no problem, hon.”

Even though she was your teacher, she really was more like a friend. That’s what you enjoyed about this place. All of the teachers mixed easily with students, and all of the students felt comfortable around the teachers.

The three of you talked and laughed as they set up different props around the platform to be used later. Most of them were there to allow you to keep your balance or maintain a pose that required continuous strain on a set of muscles. Ranging from short stools to chairs to a coat rack and even a pair of gymnast’s rings securely suspended from the ceiling, the props would allow you to take on a much wider variety of poses than without.

You were swinging from the rings like a child, hanging with your arms over your head, leaving your breasts on full display, when the first student walked in. She paid absolutely no mind to you, stuck in her own world of her and her music coming from an iPod. More students began to arrive for the class, most glancing at you somewhat curiously as they came in just to see what they would be working on today before heading over to chat with other students. A few simply walked right on by you, acting as if you were just another clothed human being there for the class.

Ten minutes later class began. Ted asked you to place a foot on a stool and stand with the leg that was on the ground completely flexed to bring out the muscle definition. Later you shifted into another pose, twisting your body to cause your back muscles to stand out. There was one where you held a heavy weight over your head. For another, you were practically bent backwards.

With about nine minutes of class left, Ted asked you to change poses one last time, something to stretch your body out taut. You placed your right foot slightly forward, standing on the balls of your feet and your toes like you were doing calf-raises. Extending your right arm above your head, you allowed your hand to pass through one of the gymnast’s rings, grabbing at the strong tether attaching it to the ceiling and wrapping your hand and wrist in it to help you hold your position on your toes. It assisted you in maintaining your balance while providing you with another point to hold some of your weight so that your calf muscles didn’t give out.

It was elegant, really. A good ending to a good class.

Less than a minute after settling into this new position, the door to the classroom opened.

“—in the middle of drawing a model just so you can see what it’s like, try not to disturb them,” you heard one of the many receptionists for the building say to someone else.

You smirked internally. Someone coming to scope out the place to see what kind of classes they taught here, obviously. Well, they were about to get a lot more on the tour alone than they imagined. Where before you would have been nervous with the disturbance of a new presence while you were naked, now you were just tired. Let them look, you didn’t care—

“ _Echo_?” It was barely a whisper from the far side of the classroom, where the door was located. But your heightened hearing capabilities caught onto it just as clearly as if it had been screamed. You knew the owner of that voice.

Your eyes flew open.

Standing there in the doorway off to your left, giving them a full view of, well, _everything_ , was none other than Steve Rogers.

Crap.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took weeks to get up. This was supposed to be done in one weekend.
> 
> Here there be smut!!

“Do you do this…often?”

“No! No. I…I’ve never done it before.” This is _the_ single most embarrassing moment of your life.

“Are you—will you do it again?” He blushes deeply.

“I, ah, no…?” The floor could open up and swallow you right now and that would be one-hundred percent okay.

You and Steve stood across from each other, both of you (now) fully dressed. Katelyn had immediately ended the class as soon as she recognized Steve and the situation being played out in front of her. The students who had been so attentively drawing you had looked at her questioningly, some of them grumbling, but her expression of urgency was enough to alert them that arguing in that moment would be neither well-received nor productive.

Katelyn had thrown you your robe as soon as she could, and you had hurried to cover yourself up as much as possible. It didn’t help that you were still on a podium and were standing higher than everybody else in the room. As you turned and fled into the little back room where your clothes were you saw Katelyn give Professor Benzine—no, _Ted_ —a pointed look. He seemed to have caught on, going over to where Steve still stood dumbfounded in the doorway and introduced himself. You had heard Ted asking Steve what kind of art he liked and if any of the classes offered there had interested him as you locked yourself in with your clothes.

As appealing as it was to stay in there for the rest of eternity, you knew you couldn’t hide yourself away forever. So now, here you were, talking with your biggest and still quite secret crush moments after he had seen you naked.

There was an acutely uncomfortable pause between the two of you as neither of you made eye contact or offered up something to say. Luckily, Katelyn came up to you in that moment, holding your sketchbooks and brushes that you had left in her room earlier. You looked at her questioningly as she handed them to you. You still had your actual art class to attend, didn’t you?

“Here,” she offered quietly, and you took the supplies with shaking hands. “I think you have a few things to talk about and work out. I’ll see you next week.” Even though Steve was right there, she said the words only to you, clearly intended for him not to comment on or even pay attention to. As she walked away she shot back a peculiar look at you and him standing there that you couldn't quite decipher.

Well, there went your excuse of having to be somewhere else at that moment. Seeing as both of you would be headed back to the tower and neither of you had any more reasons to stay in the building any longer, it looked like you would be walking back together. Great.

Turning from Katelyn’s receding form to Steve, you saw that he still had a pink blush across his cheeks and down his neck. Clearing your throat and trying to sound as if everything were completely normal, you asked Steve “So. Shall we go?”

He looked at you for a quick minute with his head tilted down bashfully, so that he was really looking at you through his (unfairly) long eyelashes. He straightened up, seemingly having gathered his resolve and resigning himself to an _extremely_ awkward walk back, and nodded at you with a tight smile.

“Sure.” His voice was strained with fake lightness to cover how overwhelmed he felt with the entire situation.

The two of you headed to the end of the hall, you leading the way and opting to take the stairs instead of the elevator. It seemed better to keep moving and not be stuck standing still while the two of you avoided all eye contact and conversation.

Finally making your way out onto the street, you paused and took in a deep breath, enjoying the late afternoon spring sunshine. Steve waited quietly a polite few feet away, and you sort of glanced at him over your shoulder to signal you were ready to start walking.

As the two of you fell into step beside each other (you forcing yourself to take longer strides in order to keep pace with his), you finally broke the silence.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” you stated hesitantly, unsure what else to say. “I…that was really like a freak-happenstance, considering you were taking the tour for the first time and I didn’t know about it and that I really never do that at all and never will again and so was the only possible time you would ever see that anyway and….” You ended in a mumble as you realized you were rambling in your embarrassment, which was embarrassing enough by itself.

Steve seemed as equally flustered as you were, if not more. This was one of the very rare occasions that you wished you were talking with literally anybody but him. If any of the other Avengers had walked in on the class like that they would have taken it in stride. Natasha would’ve delivered one of her devastating one-liners in a casual manner before going on like normal with the two of you going to get ice cream or something. Bucky would’ve made a few suggestive comments, his charm and slight arrogance making it seem like not a big deal to him, smoothing the whole thing over rather quickly before continuing with life and not really giving it a second thought.

But of course it was Steve. Couldn’t one thing go right today? You had been feeling rather content with the way the class was progressing and feeling comfortable in your exposed state when **_boom_** , zen ruined.

There were thirteen blocks until you made it to the tower. How were you going to survive this?

After the first block and a half, Steve was the one to break the silence.

“So. What type of classes are you taking right now?” He sounded nervous and shy, making him all the more adorable and irresistible and still unattainable; he was your captain, for goodness sakes. You shouldn’t be hoping for anything more than the tight kinship of comrades-in-arms. But he really wasn’t making any of this easy for you.

“Well, the one I’m taking right now is kind of a miscellaneous conglomeration of things, varying mediums and multiple subject matters. Normally the classes are much more concentrated on either one medium or one subject, but this seemed like it would be a fun sort of free-for-all. Never know what you're gonna be working on next, y’know? Plus, one of my previous teachers was taking up leading the class, so that was another reason.” You smiled fondly at the memory of your first day walking into the class a few weeks back, Katelyn learning that you were once again one of her students and practically _flipping_ with how overjoyed she was.

“The woman who gave you all your stuff back there, that was her?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Steve starting to smile at how much enthusiasm you talked about the class and teacher with. “Her name is Katelyn. Pretty much all the teachers there insist on being called by their first names. It’s pretty awesome.”

“It certainly sounds like it,” he said, seeming a little more at ease than before. The two of you walked another block or so in less-awkward silence. You wondered if you had scared Steve away from ever going back there in the future. You decided to check with him and see. It would be a shame for him not to get to do something so fun just because of that little…mishap.

“Are you thinking about it?” you asked vaguely, not really thinking about how he probably didn’t have any idea what you were actually asking about.

“I—what?” He sounded nervous again, and you glanced at him. He was flushed again, expression akin to that of a deer caught in the headlights.

“Are you thinking about doing any of the classes there?” you clarified, finding his blush incredibly cute. _No. Focus. He is not cute, he is not cute, he is not_ …

“Oh.” He was _so_ cute, bashful smile slipping through and embarrassment seeming to die down some. “Yeah. Yeah, it seems like it would be fun. It’s just…” he trailed off, looking a little lost.

“It’s just…?” You prompted him quietly, not wanting to pressure him into something he wasn’t interested in.

“I’d feel kind of out of place, y’know? Everyone would recognize me and be gawking, and then anything I did or created would be criticized, and word would get out I was there and a ton of people would sign up and it wouldn’t be fun anymore.”

“Steve.” He looked defeated. “It’s not that big of a deal. Everyone there is pretty chill, if you haven’t noticed. They are some of the least judgmental people you will ever see. I mean, they all saw _me_ naked and none of them even batted an eye, even though I felt like crawling into a hole and hiding away forever,” you half-joked. “They’re really a welcoming bunch once you get to know them.”

“But you looked so good up there, why would you worry—” he cut himself off with a look of horror, like he couldn’t believe what he had just said. You stopped in your tracks, staring at him a moment. “I—I mean, it’s not, um. You _did_ look good, but, but not in a creepy way. I mean, you’re very attractive…not _naked_ , that is. No! Not saying you aren’t when you don’t have clothes on, because believe me, you _are_ , I’m saying that you’re just as pretty normally how you are. When you’re, y’know, clothed.” He finished in a mumble and unable to meet your eyes.

The two of you stood standing there in the not-so crowded street, which was surprising since it was around lunch-time and there would normally be hordes of pedestrians hurrying to get food. That was, until you felt the first raindrop. And then another. And then in was pouring. And still the two of you stood there as those who were still outside rushed into stores and shops all around.

The spring rain was chilly, yet not cold, but still you shivered. Probably because you were also anxious and not entirely comfortable with the idea of what Steve had just ~~admitted~~ told you.

He noticed your shiver and shook his head at himself. “C’mon. I have a place just a few turns from here, much closer than the tower. We can stay there until this rain clears.” You looked at him questioningly for a minute (since when did Steve have his own place?) but willingly followed.

Neither of you spoke as you jogged to his front door barely thirty seconds away. He was right, it was much closer than the tower, and for that you were grateful. Steve pulled keys out of his pocket and quickly let you into the simple brownstone. You stumbled forward eagerly, ready to get out of the rain that had suddenly turned much colder.

You looked around the little place in wonder; this provided you with a precious and incredibly rare opportunity to get to know more about Steve through the way he expressed himself in his private home where probably none of the other Avengers had ever been before. The thought made you stop and consider for a brief moment. Why did he have this little place when he had his entire floor at the Tower, or his suite at the Avengers Complex upstate?

He seemed to know exactly what you were thinking as he watched you take in your surroundings. “I wanted somewhere more private to retreat to when it all got to be too much. Somewhere personal, just how I want it to be. A place where I wouldn’t be forced to see all the others all the time, as much as I love them.” He gave a fondly-exasperated shake of his head that was possibly more exasperation than fondness in that moment. “So when Sam offered to help me find a place in Brooklyn, well…” he trailed off with a shrug, looking at the walls around him with a faint smile. “It’s the closest thing I’ve had to a home in a long time,” he concluded, looking back to you with a soft smile.

You were suddenly very aware of what he had just told you, about this being a place to get away from the world of Avenging and stress and not have to have any reminders about what it was he did. And yet here you were, in his house— _home_ , he had called it—disrupting everything he had meant this to be. You hastened to apologize.

“Steve—I’m sorry, you probably don’t want me here then, I should go. I won’t tell any of the others, I promise—” you had been making your way back to the door which you had just entered through when his gentle arm across the front of your body stopped you from leaving. You looked up at him, dumbfounded. Why was he stopping you? Wouldn’t he be angry?

But his soft smile as he looked down at you put your worries to rest. “Echo, I wouldn’t have let you come here if I hadn’t wanted you to. With the others, I’m not quite ready to let them know I have another place to go, let alone let them know where it is. But with you…” His arm, which had remained resting across your front to prevent you from leaving, moved back to his side with a self-conscious blush. “I’m happy to have you here.”

Following the conclusion of his little assurance you became hyperaware of how pink his lips appeared and how smooth his cheeks were. The water droplets that had fallen from his hair to his eyelashes made them stand out even more, and you longed to draw him to capture that kind smile and shy expression of his.

It was the faint _plip-plip-plop_ ping sound of water hitting the hardwood floor in the entrance of the townhouse that brought you both back to the present. “Oh, um, you can borrow some clothes, if you want,” Steve said as he finally realized how soaked the two of you were. “And you’re welcome to take a shower to warm up. I’ll just go get…” he trailed off as he turned away to walk down the hall and up the stairs to grab extra towels for you, before leading you through his bedroom (you definitely did _not_ look at the California king-sized bed in the center of the room. He was a big, tall guy. He needed the extra space, of course) to the en-suite bathroom, the only bathroom in the house with a shower included.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, looking around with a slightly dazed expression at how you suddenly ended up in Steve Rogers’ bathroom next to his lovely and cozy shower alongside the man himself. “Um, what about you? Don’t you want to shower first? By the time I’m done all the hot water will be gone…” you tried to laugh about it.

He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Internal body temperature runs rather hot, so I’m actually not cold. You go ahead, and I’ll leave some clothes lying out on the bed for you when you’re finished.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Maybe taking a shower now would be nice. Hypothermia could already be setting in, leaving you in this slightly confused and cloudy headspace (okay, sure, you knew it didn’t happen _that_ quickly, and that it was nowhere near cold enough to actually be hypothermia, but still, you had to blame it on something, right?)

_%%%_

You exited the steamed-up bathroom and walked back into Steve’s bedroom, looking around for the set of clothes he had promised to leave out for you. Folded neatly on the bed were a pair of sweatpants, a sweatshirt, and a t-shirt. The sweatshirt would be good. Not only was it large and cozy, but it was also baggy enough to hide the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra since there was _no way_ you could be convinced to put your cold and sopping one back on.

Sliding it over your head, the hem fell almost to your knees and the sleeves went well past your hands. Deciding that the sweatpants would likely end in disaster (i.e. you tripping down the stairs and breaking your neck) you only somewhat guiltily rooted around in Steve’s dresser for a pair of boxers instead. Those had a much better fit, considering Steve had the shoulder-hip ratio of a Dorito (you would have to show him that tumblr post sometime). You would just have to be sure to keep your legs closed when you sat, since your considerably smaller thighs allowed for a direct line of sight to where your underwear _should_ be when looked at from straight-on whilst you were sitting. Finally, you searched around for a pair of socks, choosing a pair of navy blue ones that would go only halfway up Steve’s calves but went nearly to your knees when you put them on.

You walked out of his room and down the stairs, rolling the sleeves up as best you could as you went. When you didn’t see Steve in the living room, you turned into the kitchen, still struggling to convince the sweatshirt to give your hands freedom from its cozy clutches. A barely-audible inhale caught your attention—thanks to your acute sense of hearing—and you glanced up.

Steve stood at the kitchen island, mini-marshmallows in hand as he had been plopping them into what was evidently two mugs of hot chocolate. For now he stood frozen, hands hovering over the drinks as he looked at you with a slightly open mouth.

You looked down self-consciously at your (his) outfit. “Is this okay?” you prompted quietly, slightly concerned you had crossed a line by going through more of his clothes than he had intended. But he just blinked and shook his head rapidly.

“No. It’s fine. You’re fine.”

You studied him for a moment before heading over to one of the tall chairs placed around the island. “Okay,” was all you said at first. Then, “Thank you.”

Steve, who had gone back to preparing the hot chocolate by adding whipped cream on top, looked at you questioningly. “What for?” he asked, genuinely unsure what you were thanking him for.

You shrugged, swiveling around on the chair and swinging your legs like you were a child. “For allowing me to use your shower and lending me clothes. For bringing me here. For showing up to the school in the first place, and then taking it all in stride after everything that happened.” You managed to say the last bit with only a slight blush and a small smile. “For not taking advantage of any of it, and making me feel normal after all of that. I was worried you would look at me differently, that I would lose your respect.” You finished with a smile as he slid one of the drinks across the island to you, and you took it happily.

He leaned against the island counter to be closer to eye-level with you, though he still remained huge without being intimidating. “Why would any of that change my respect for you?” he asked seriously.

You blushed a little and looked to the side, chair swiveling once again as you allowed your body’s momentum to pull it in a different way. “Most people would look down on me for that, I think. Most of the other Avengers still see me as the newbie and the kid, even though I’m not that much younger than most of them. I think a lot of them would have seen that as ‘immature’ and ‘inappropriate of a member of the Avengers to do’ and be mad about it.” You let your hips twist towards Steve once more, so that your body and chair moved to face forwards once again, and you stayed that way this time, similarly leaning forward onto the counter as he had done. “I appreciate that you don’t view me any differently,” you finished.

He held your gaze for a moment, and you probably should have been embarrassed at the intensity with which he was looking at you. But you maintained eye contact, taking the occasional sip from your mug of hot chocolate. Finally, you noticed him trying to suppress a smile.

“What?” you asked him, genuinely curious as to what he was thinking.

He shook his head and let out a soft chuckle. “You’ve got a bit of whipped cream…” he gestured vaguely to his own nose, and you went cross-eyed to try and see yours. Apparently you had gotten quite a bit of it on yourself from your drink.

He laughed again as your eyes crossed and you swiped at the wrong side of your face to try and get it off. “Here, let me,” he said, reaching across the counter to dab it away with a towel. You remained still under his hand, noticing that he seemed to be taking a little more time than was strictly necessary to wipe it away, but enjoying it nonetheless. He finished by pushing a few stray strands of damp hair behind your ear and meeting your eyes. It would have been a rather sweet and tender gesture had he not proceeded to ruffle your hair into a huge mess. You stuck your tongue out at him, taking a finger-full of whipped cream from your own cup and dotting it across his cheeks. He moved to try and escape your reach, but you grabbed the bag of marshmallows and began pelting him with them. He laughed out loud, a deep and resonating sound, using the small dish towel to try and ward off your attacks.

Just as you were gaining the upper hand with your arsenal of miniature pastel-colored marshmallows and had him backed into a corner, Steve remembered the can of whipped cream and snatched it from the nearby counter. With a triumphant “HA!” he let a torrent of it loose from the can, landing in your hair and across your (his) sweatshirt.

“Noooo!” you cried dramatically with a laugh, trying to avoid the continuous onslaught of semi-liquid sugar. “I just took a shower, you jerk!” You tried turning to make it out of the kitchen and away from the unending stream of sticky, but your socks slipped on the hardwood floor and suddenly you were falling.

Steve’s strong arm was around you in an instant, stopping your fall before you had even fully registered that it was happening. You looked up at him with a slightly breathless sigh and said dramatically “My hero!” before throwing a hand over your heart and tilting your head back with a mock-dreamy expression. He only snorted, using your state of unawareness and your exposed neck to leave a big glop of gooey from your chin up to your collarbone.

“Hey!” You gave an indignant cry as he laughed again and allowed you to jump up and cling to him koala-style as you wrestled to get the can away from him. He held it high out of your reach, and you decided to test a theory. Bringing your fingers down from where they grasped ineffectively at his forearm to his armpit, you began to tickle. He let out a surprised cry and tried shying away from you, an ineffective action considering he was actually holding you around your waist to keep you from falling off as he moved.

Steve finally dropped the can as you continued your onslaught of tickles, at which point you finally stopped. The two of you caught your breath from laughing so much as you both still clung to each other; you, to keep from falling, and him, to keep you from falling. You rested your chin on his chest and looked up at him with a smile. “You little twerp,” you accused.

He only laughed again, tilting his head back and exposing more of that glorious jawline. “I’m pretty sure you started it,” he defended with a giddy grin.

“Sure, blame it on me. REAL mature, Steve.” You emphasized just exactly how much more mature you were than him by sticking out your tongue once again.

The two of you giggled for a moment more before you realized you were still pretty much clinging to his front. You moved to unwind your legs from around his hips and place your feet on the floor once more, but he only pulled you higher and closer, arms staying firmly around your waist.

You looked up at him curiously to find him staring down at you intently. Your heart seemed to skip a beat and you felt your stomach lurch with nervousness. Was this…?

He walked forward enough to set you down on the island counter, standing between your legs, chest almost flush with yours. You sat there looking up at him, waiting for a cue of what he was going to do. He seemed to be similarly looking to you for any sign that you were uncomfortable or unsteady.

You tried to suppress just how giddy you were, wanting to come off as cool and composed. You bit your lip in what you hoped was an enticing manner, drawing Steve’s eyes downwards to land on your mouth.

He had somehow gotten closer than you had realized from when you last had the mental capacity to take in his proximity to you. You simply shared the same air for a beat before your noses brushed, and you felt Steve’s hand slide to the back of your neck to tilt your head backwards and then his lips were there, only barely resting on yours, waiting to press in further like you could tell he wanted to but refraining from doing so. Your eyes fell shut and you pressed forward the tiniest amount, letting him know that you were on board for this, whatever this was. Then his hands were on your cheeks, large palms caressing your face and long fingers beginning to tangle in your hair as he deepened the kiss.

You brought your hands hesitantly to rest on his biceps, giving the indication that he was not to move away under any circumstances while still remaining gentle. You could easily stay like this forever and die happy right now in this moment. Maybe you had. Maybe this was what heaven was, or whatever afterlife existed. This was it. This was perfect.

Steve’s lips moved away from yours all too soon, and you gave the smallest of discontented whines at the loss. But his kisses returned to travel languidly across your cheek and jaw, lips landing softly on your skin in a way that made you shiver. Your hands slid from his biceps to his shoulders, digging in a little when he stopped on the corner of your mouth and pulled back.

He looked down at you, placing a tender kiss to your forehead as you took a deep breath, trying to wrap your head around this pleasant turn of events. You smiled at each other before his eyes grew serious and bore into you intently, almost asking a question. You brought his face down to yours with a new sense of urgency that hadn’t been present before, countering the slow care that was there only an instant prior with the two of you locking lips passionately to explore each other’s mouths. It felt as if you had to make up for lost time, though no time had truly been lost between you that you were aware of. It felt like meeting anew after a long time apart, like discovering something about each other for the very first time. It felt like coming home. It felt like _I love you_ and _I want you_ and _I need you_ all wrapped up in one. It felt right.

His right hand trailed down your neck, brushing alongside the large amounts of whipped cream there before landing on your shoulder to pull you impossibly closer. You broke the kiss just long enough to get his name out, catching his attention.

“Steve,” you said, feeling the need to point out the obvious. “We’re all sticky.”

He pulled back just enough to pretend to analyze the situation. “Hm.” He looked contemplative. “So we are.” He kissed your cheek. “We should probably do something about that, then.”

You looked up at him and grinned. “And what exactly do you propose?”

_%%%_

The two of you had somehow managed to make it out of the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs, through the bedroom, and into the shower with relatively minor difficulty—which really was a miracle in retrospect. There were traces of whipped cream along a few of the walls from the times Steve stopped to press you up against one and kiss your mouth with a fervor renewed, and a couple of globs along the stairway railing and doorknobs. Yet for the most part, your journey to the shower was fairly straightforward, allowing the two of you access to each other’s bodies all the sooner, as was evident by the piles of clothing tossed haphazardly across the bedroom and trailing into the bathroom.

You were back to standing on your own feet, Steve having set you down in order to get the water running. His left arm was wrapped around you from behind, thumb tracing circles where it rested on your right hip. His right hand was ghosting up and down the outside of your breast, occasionally venturing in between them and up to your collarbones but always managing to avoid your sensitive and neglected nipples. You gave a small “ _Mmph_ ” of frustration and need, deciding to tease him right back by running your backside sensuously up and down over his groin. This earned you a small gasp from just behind your right ear, a puff of air tickling the side of your neck.

“ _Echo_ ,” he breathed, and you doubled your efforts by grinding into him even harder, allowing a particularly vicious gyration of your hips directly on his erection. He shuddered out a breath and dropped his forehead to your shoulder, breathing labored. You used his momentary distraction to twist around in his grip until you were pressed chest to chest.

“Hi,” you said sweetly, looking up at him with an innocent smile even as your hand trailed down to circle around his girth.

“Hi, yourself,” Steve croaked out as you began moving your hand up and down in a slow rhythm, grazing your thumb over the tip every other stroke. He brought one hand to your neck to tilt your head back, kissing you deeply. You moaned into the kiss, drawing a groan and a hungry growl from Steve. The unexpected dominant noise made your knees go weak and you fell back against the shower wall for support.

Steve only continued to crowd into your space, advancing until there was no possible way for you to move out from between him and the wall. His hands fell down your sides to grab your rear and grind you against him, your hand sliding out from between your bodies to snake its way into his hair and tangle there. You weren’t sure if you were sharing one long kiss or many little ones, but it didn’t seem to matter. Steve was an _amazing_ kisser, and you briefly wondered where he had gotten all the practice. That thought was chased away by his tongue making its way down the column of your throat to your clavicle, where he sucked on the skin there. He nipped light enough so as not to hurt, but just hard enough to leave small bruises to bloom and make you feel owned, like he truly possessed all of you.

You had no idea how turned on you were by all this until just now.

At some point Steve had ended up on his knees, though you weren’t entirely sure when that had happened. It was some time after he had finally— _finally_ —began toying with your nipples, but before his fingers had made their way all the way south to where they currently were now, alongside his tongue.

A shudder wracked your frame as he brought his mouth back just enough to huff warm air over your sex, his thumb searching out your clitoris and beginning a steady pace circling around it. You saw him grin up at you from where his face was positioned between your thighs, and you decided that no one should be able to look that sexy with their tongue inside another person’s body, _no one_. And yet, here Steve was, eyes heavy-lidded and pupils dilated, lips pinker than ever with a faint flush high on his cheeks, making him look like a god of old. His blonde hair was darkened under the stream of water, the short hairs sticking straight up while the longer strands on the top of his head were a mess due to your fingers razing a continuous path through them.

You felt yourself begin to climb that final wall before the fall into ecstasy, body writhing against Steve’s sinful tongue and beautiful face. He held your hips firmly in place in a strong grip that left bruises across your lower stomach and inner thighs. As you finally climaxed, Steve flattened his tongue and held it firmly against your clit, maximizing the pleasured buzz you were experiencing. Beginning your descent back down from your wild high, your knees gave out fully—but Steve was there, holding you up with one arm around your waist and the other gently cradling the back of your skull.

You blinked lazily up at him, a languid smile growing on your face and lighting up your eyes. Seeing you were finally returning to coherency, Steve smiled back at you, leaving tiny butterfly kisses across your cheeks, eyelids, and forehead, ending with one on the tip of your nose and one to your lips. You moved your mouth back against his, slowly allowing your tongue to explore his and caress it with the gentlest of strokes that had him sighing into you.

As your hand made its lazy way back down to his manhood, Steve gently circled your wrist with his fingers, stopping you from reaching your goal. You half glared, half pouted up at him, letting out an annoyed exhale through your nose.

He only chuckled, leaning down to run his lips softly across your temple. “You don’t have to do anything for me. We don’t need to go any further if you don’t want to.” He said it with a gentleness and sincerity that had your heart swelling and your soul aching.

“Steve,” you started, gazing up at him seriously. “If you don’t take me right now, or at least let me blow you, I am walking out of this shower and out of your life forever,” you stated simply. He stared at you a moment before laughing, and, try as you might, you were unable to refrain from joining in. Your soft giggles mixed with his gentle chuckles in a delicate harmony, and you couldn’t help but feel like the two of you were meant to be, arrogant as that may seem. Many people wanted Steve, and many had had access to him over the past couple of years since he awoke from his time under ice. The fact that you (as far as you knew) were the first person he had opened himself up to in such an intimate way since waking made your pride swell to a dangerously exuberated level. He could have anyone he wanted, and yet he chose you. _You_.

As if somehow aware of your train of thought, Steve’s hand came up to brush against your cheek and tangle slightly in your hair. He looked down at you with kindness in his eyes and a smile in his voice as he said, “Echo, you are truly a work of art.”

And then he was kissing you again, that sense of want and urgency slowly making its way back into the kisses that you shared. Your hand had escaped the grasp he had on your wrist and completed its journey back down to his erection, stroking lightly and gently squeezing as you gauged his reactions and determined what he like best. He seemed to enjoy having his foreskin rolled under your thumb, and when you twisted your wrist the tiniest bit as you stroked over the head, his hips bucked forward and he thrust into your hand. But it was only when your fingers teasingly made their way down his shaft to brush against his balls that he truly began to lose control.

He pulled back harshly from the kiss, nipping your bottom lip firmly before resting his forehead against yours. “How do you want to do this?” he demanded, eyes boring into yours.

You considered a moment. He had held you up enough on your way to the shower (he had freaking carried you, for goodness sakes), so you knew that wouldn’t be a problem for him. But as you thought about it, you liked the idea of your feet being forced off the ground with the power of his thrusts instead of simply being held off of the ground by him. That seemed to show even more strength in your mind than you just clinging to him as he pounded into you.

Having made your decision, you gave him a seductive smirk as you twirled around in his grasp, pressing your front forward against the wall and sticking your butt out in a sensual manner. You felt Steve’s large hands run reverently over the muscles there, and you grew suddenly very glad that you had been doing so many squats as of late.

Steve’s left hand ran smoothly up your back to rest possessively against the back of your neck, his right hand remaining half on your hip, half on your cheek. You felt him lean forward and press a kiss between your shoulder blades, fingers stroking against the side of your throat as he asked gently, “Are you sure?”

You nodded once firmly, tilting your face just enough to the side to make eye contact with him for a brief moment. He let out a less-than-steady exhale, before taking a deep breath. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he stated, leaving no room for argument. You loved having Steve be so confident and sure of himself; you had been sure that he would be shy and sweet, but this more dominant, possessive side of him was hotter than anything you had imagined (and you had imagined quite a lot). You nodded again in response to his order, then let out a big breath in preparation for him entering you.

He pushed forward slowly, and your breath caught in your throat. “Relax, Echo,” he reminded gently, and you exhaled once again. You squirmed a bit at the somewhat unfamiliar sensation (it had been a while, alright?) and his left hand let up a bit on the back of your neck, though his right remained firm on your hip to keep you steady and prevent you from hurting yourself.

After feeling like you had adjusted enough, you gave your hips a little wiggle. Steve hissed through his teeth, hand once again tightening against the back of your neck and head. He didn’t pull out right away, but instead opted to circle his hips a few times and had you panting for breath almost immediately.

“Steve, Steven. _Steve_ ,” you ground out in increasingly greater levels of irritation at his teasing. He finally showed mercy and caved to your silent pleas, beginning by pulling out the smallest bit before thrusting back in. Soon enough, he was pulling almost entirely out before slamming back into you.

As you had suspected, you were left on the balls of your feet for most of his thrusts, pushing you up the wall and onto your tiptoes. Every now and then he managed to push you completely off the floor for a second before you landed long enough to ground yourself for his next thrust forward. You rolled your hips back onto his in time with his motions, desiring more stimulation to your clit but not sure that you could ask for it.

Steve, as he had been impressively demonstrating throughout this entire experience, once again seemed to know what you were thinking. “Uh-uh. You’re gonna come from my cock alone, baby girl.” Those words—which you had _never_ expected to hear fall from Steve Rogers’ lips—combined with his filthy tone, had you on the very edge, and you longed more than ever for him to just _touch you_.

He kept you constantly on edge by varying the speed with which he was entering you, every now and then seating himself completely for a brief time to grind in a figure-eight or other motion against your core. You could tell he was beginning to approach his end by the increasing harshness of his panting, and the way his right hand would tighten and then loosen its hold on your side repeatedly. That was going to leave even more bruises across your skin. The thought left you breathless with excitement.

You could hear him murmuring something, but it was too slurred at the moment for you to make out. Luckily, with your extremely advanced hearing and an intense amount of concentration that you were proud of yourself for pulling together in that moment, you were finally able to distinguish one word:

Your name—your _real_ name—over and over.

For whatever reason, that was what did it for you. The sound of the name that no one remembered you by falling from his lips in such a wrecked tone pushed you past the point of no return, and you opened your mouth in a silent scream. Steve followed closely behind you, the contracting of your inner walls from your own orgasm drawing out his. He latched his teeth onto the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pulling you back so that you were no longer leaning forward against the shower wall but standing straight up with your back flush to his chest.

The water continued to fall over the two of you as your bodies grew weak and minds calmed. Steve began growing soft inside of you, checking in with you first to make sure that you were okay with it before pulling out of you completely. He turned you around and held you to him for a moment, allowing the warm water to wash away the mess dripping down both of your thighs.

Your ear rested against his chest where you could hear his heartbeat beginning to slow back to its regular pace, and your eyes fluttered shut as you smiled in contentment. A few more moments in his embrace and he tilted your chin up to look at him, searching your eyes for any pain or regret over what you had just shared. When he found none, just happiness and peace, he smiled softly, leaning down to pepper kisses across your face once more.

Steve took care of you after that, like you knew he would. He held onto you as he lathered your body with soap and washed out your hair, sprinkling kisses over your neck and shoulders whenever he could. You held onto him tightly, returning his kisses when you had the mental power to do so, but mostly just floating in your post-orgasmic haze and enjoying the pampering you were receiving.

When Steve finally turned off the shower (the water had started to get cold and you had begun to shiver), you attempted to help him out by grabbing your towel from earlier and wrapping it around yourself. But he wouldn’t let you, insisting on getting a fresh, extra-fluffy one and bundling you up in it before carrying you bridal-style into the bedroom.

Your eyes were closed as your face pressed into his neck and shoulder, and one of his strong hands made its rhythmic way through your wet hair in a soothing motion that had you half-asleep by the time he crawled into the bed beside you, pulling an extra-soft blanket over you as you finally managed to open your eyes and look up at him adoringly.

“You’re exquisite, Echo,” he murmured in your ear, adding on, “you’re gonna hafta let me draw you sometime. Preferably naked.” He grinned shyly, despite everything the two of you had just done together and his earlier show of dominance. You smiled up at him sleepily.

“Mmm, as you wish. _Captain_.”

His eyes expanded the slightest bit and grew faintly darker, and you laughed internally. Just as you suspected. Well, that was something you could try out another time. Maybe in the morning, when you had bones again.

For now, Steve just pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to your forehead, snuggling his face into your neck and twining his legs with yours. Your fingers interlaced across your stomachs, and you rested your head on his shoulder as you drifted off to sleep.

~Fin~


End file.
